My day was going along, you know, and it wasn't anything out of the ordinary at all, and that was fine. Then I got a call from school about one child, and then later as I girded myself to deal with that child and that particular issue (and was coaching myself to try to refrain from starting with "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?"), the kids arrived home and the OTHER child had a note detailing an EVEN BETTER transgression, one that caused said child to hand me the note and then RUN AWAY CRYING because there was no question at all that sticking around would mean bearing witness to my brain actually...
Every parent who's ever had a sick, inconsolable child knows the helpless feeling that comes with not being able to fix your baby's pain. Likewise, every parent who's ever had a sick child who was too sick to go to school but not quite sick enough to just sit down and watch cartoons, already, knows the helpless feeling that comes with not being able to drop that kid off at school already. GUESS which one I had today! Go on! Oh, it was fine. He was fine. It's funny; I had the most entertaining discussion with Susan about our mutual frustration over how it is possible for the SAME child who...
You already know that when my folks are here, we do exciting things like watch endless hours of CSI: Miami. But obviously we cannot do that while the children are awake, because David Caruso is inappropriate viewing material for impressionable young minds. They would have nightmares. So what did we do while the kids were around? Well, mostly we fill the time with eating. Sure, you might think, "Really, now, how much time could you spend eating?" And the answer is: Almost all of it. There are meals, of course, but then also there just seems to be endless amounts of snacking, not to mention...
Today the children and I stayed in the house and watched a lot of television. Eventually we took a break to drive very slowly around all of the trees which had grown weary of the ice and sagged downward, laying across the road. We're so sorry, the trees seemed to say. We're just tired, and stretching out, and we'll stand up in a minute. Pardon us! There was no pardoning them, however, as the Department of Public Works was hacking them up when we returned from buying bread and milk and baby carrots. I'd wanted to take some pictures, but I guess it wasn't meant to be. I thought that nothing...
Chickadee: My name is Kooky. Me: Hello, Kooky. Chickadee: No, wait. My name is--- actually, I quite enjoy my real name. Me: That's wonderful... I enjoy your real name, too. And when I was a kid I hated my name, so I'm especially glad that you like yours. Chickadee: Well your name sounds much better for someone old like you, not a kid--- Me: *jaw drops, stricken look* Chickadee: I mean, not that you're old. Me: Stop talking now. Chickadee: You're laughing. Me: No I'm not. Chickadee: Yes you are. Me: You called me old. Chickadee: I didn't call you an old lady. Me: Stop. Talking. God, I love...
(Not to be confused, of course, with the remains of the cake.) Monkey's 7th birthday has come and gone, and I haven't cried (much) and Chickadee wasn't jealous (much) and all went well except for the part where in order to buy enough stuff to be able to use my credit card, when I was picking up party plates and napkins I bought a big bag of Flipz and now I can't stop eating them. And given the spectrum of possible birthday calamities, that seems pretty manageable. As is our custom, I quietly woke Chickadee this morning and we burst into Monkey's room to wake him with the birthday song. He...
I have things to tell you about, but somehow our crash-landing back into the land of Routine has been sufficiently difficult that I must go to bed right now if I am to have any hope of being coherent in the morning. Hold that thought, whatever it was. Tonight I can only offer this lovely acrostic I almost missed in my daughter's backpack. Her stint as Rosa Parks at school went off without a hitch, and whether it was an assignment or just pure adoration for the woman that moved her to create the following, I'm unsure. Regardless, this is one piece that goes straight into the box of papers to...
Love is having a long day, dealing with wallpaper that won't behave and contractors who will but still take way too long to do finish, fielding several meltdowns and endless whining, and then remembering that tomorrow is the last day of school before break and teacher gifts must be readied. Love is patting yourself on the back for having everything bought ahead, and packing up the gift bags, and then remembering that---thanks to various "help" and "testing" and "special sessions"---you should, by rights, be gifting quite a few of the support staff as well. Possibly with large sums of cash....
"I think this little girl wants to play, too," I tell my children. Monkey obediently scoots back to make room, but as the interloper reaches for the toy, Chickadee starts telling her to sit back and watch, she will show her how it works. "Chickadee." No response. "CHICKADEE. Please let her have it." "I'm just SHOWING her---" "She can figure it out. Let her have it." She ignores me, and puts her hand up to the offender once more, explaining that she will demonstrate. "Chickadee. NOW." She turns over the toy but stands with a huff and a stomp and starts to leave. "Chickadee. Don't leave,...
